The Angel's Smile
by atlaswhite
Summary: As the Autobots face their darkest times, Optimus Prime finds joy in a little yellow sparkling. A special collection of short stories recording their times together as Optimus tries to balance his responsibilities, and raise Bumblebee in a wartorn world.
1. 見つけられる Found

_Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑 - __The Angel's Smile _  
_見つけられる (found)_

_.  
_

Optimus Prime smiled sadly as he looked down at the yellow sparkling before him, his spark full of love. Sitting in a plain metal chair by the tiny creature's berth, he kept careful watch over him, ready to react to even the smallest sound or movement. He slowly reached out and gently stroked the side of the protoform's helm with the back of a single digit.

The child had been found, abandoned, in the eastern sector of Iacon, left to fend for himself. Another unwanted protoform sparked and then abandoned because of the energon shortage… Every case like this was a tragedy that caused Optimus Prime's spark to ache, especially when so many of these protoforms, unable to care for themselves, soon went offline from starvation and the elements.

This one had been lucky. Even though he was sickly and had had to have medics attending to him constantly since his discovery, and even though he was, even now, still so likely to go offline… At least he still had a chance. That possibility of life beyond sparklinghood, and the opportunity to fight for that possibility, was something that far too many abandoned protoforms never got.

An older orphan named Jazz had been the one to find him whilst rummaging in a garbage bin for salvageable parts he could sell. He hadn't known what to do with him, and had considered just leaving him there in the garbage, but ultimately, he'd taken him with him anyway.

Unable and unwilling to take care of a sparkling, Jazz had looked for a place he could take him, and had brought him here; a recently-established facility attached to the central Iacon military base that had been created to care for abandoned sparklings like this one and for Autobot civilians left orphaned, injured, or mateless by the war.

Jazz, being without parents himself, had been taken in as well, but he was already much too old for the nursery. Instead, after receiving energon and medical care, he had joined the Autobot cause as a soldier, and was now in training.

Jazz would go far someday, that much was clear. Optimus could only hope that he would be able to say the same about the sparkling.

Gently, he stroked the sparkling's white cheek. He had known better than to get too attached, but it was much too late now. Already, he felt a deep love in his spark that caused it to ache. The thought of losing the yet unnamed protoform was painful.

The sparkling stirred in his stasis, emitting a soft cooing sound. His bright blue optics slowly blinked online, and he looked sleepily up at Optimus.

"Well, hello there," Optimus greeted softly, smiling down at him, his facemask lowered.

The protoform was quiet, unusually so for a child his age, and made little effort to acknowledge the much larger Autobot's presence. As sick as he was, it was rare that he became noisy or especially aware of his own surroundings, and so this came as no surprise to Optimus. Even so, it was always a little disappointing to see that this had not changed.

"How are you feeling?" Optimus asked rhetorically, his voice quiet and soothing. "Don't worry, you'll get better soon…"

Amazingly, the sparkling slowly extended a tiny servo up towards the Autobot leader's blue finger, and feebly clasped the tip. Optimus's optics widened, and he felt excitement well up within him.

This was the first time the sparkling had mustered the strength to raise his servo. It was a great sign, meaning that he was on the road to recovery, and, somehow, it felt like an honour even to the great Autobot commander that the first thing he'd ever reached for was him.

His smile grew in size and warmth. He could barely contain his joy at this event, and it took restraint not to pick the sparkling up from his berth and hold him then.

"You know… You're going to need a name." Optimus whispered. "What shall we call you?"

The protoform cooed again, his yellow servo still clutching Optimus's finger.

"Hmm… How about…" With his free servo, Optimus scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Naming the child was another thing he knew better than to do. In fact, this was probably even worse than just growing fond of him, since giving him a name personified him and made him feel like more than just a sick abandoned protoform in the medical ward. But, just as he had gone against common sense and warnings alike and gotten attached to the sparkling, he now took it a step further.

"Bumblebee." Optimus said proudly. "That sounds like a good name for you, don't you think?"

The sparkling cooed again, even more quietly this time. He still did not smile or laugh, or oftentimes even cry, and Optimus wondered what he might be thinking, in that little helm of his. Would he come to like the name he'd chosen, even if he did not understand yet what it meant?

"Bumblebee," Optimus repeated, now addressing the sparkling. "That's your name now. Bumblebee."

Perhaps he was just imagining things, but for a klik, he thought he saw a smile, as pure as an angel's.

Optimus Prime would spend the night sitting there by the newly-dubbed Bumblebee's berth, his servo rested at its edge, still in the sparkling's feeble grasp. When nurses looked in on them, they couldn't help but smile; just looking at them, it was impossible to tell that they were not parent and child.

.

* * *

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_**_It is important that no one copy, imitate, or base derivitives on anything in this fan fiction. On this I am steadfast! Do not do it!_

_The Japanese version of this story is presently unavailable. My apologies for any inconvenience. _


	2. 勇敢な子供 Brave Child

_Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑- The Angel's Smile_

_勇敢な子供(Brave Child)_

_._

Several vorns had passed since that fateful night when Jazz had come to the Autobots, just an adolescent orphan, carrying with him an abandoned protoform he'd discovered while salvaging.

Optimus had been right about him having a bright future. Looking at him now, a fine young soldier and a loyal friend, now fresh out of training, it was impossible to tell that he had once been just a kid from the streets with nowhere to go.

And though the road to recovery had been long and laborious, it looked like the little sparkling he'd found had a chance to have a bright future, too.

In the time since Bumblebee's naming, Optimus Prime had taken him in as his own and had raised him as his progeny. Now able to walk unaided, the yellow sparkling followed him pretty much everywhere except the battlefield, and only Jazz and a select few from the shelter's clinic even knew that Optimus had not sparked him. (Admittedly, that had led to a few rumors here and there as to who Optimus had been bonded to and what had happened to them, not that it mattered much.)

It appeared that little Bumblebee had been abandoned just shortly after he was sparked, and unfortunately, the elements he'd been exposed to—from the cold to starvation and malnourishment to the garbage he'd been left in—had taken their toll on his tiny body.

The struggle to keep him functioning had been a difficult one, and even once he had recovered from his initial illness, and was no longer in danger of offlining, he had been weak and frail.

It had taken a long time for Bumblebee to finally recover and to slowly gain enough strength even to perform such simple tasks as walking and lifting small objects. But even when he was small, he had always had such a fiery determination, and had worked hard, with the help of Optimus, Jazz, and Ratchet, until he'd reached the simple goals of walking, running, and playing.

Just to see him laugh and smile seemed like a tiny miracle, again and again, and Optimus treasured it every single time. In those dark times of war and famine, the little yellow sparkling was the Autobot leader's only joy. He only wished he could provide him with better.

xxx

On this particular day, Optimus was going about his rounds, striding majestically down the halls of the base, Bumblebee trotting happily at his heels.

Every once in a while, Bumblebee would fall behind and give a small yelp, and Prime would stop, glance over his shoulder, and wait until he'd caught up. Then they'd keep going, and the same thing would happen just a few breems later. Bumblebee was stubborn, and insisted on walking on the ground. Now that he could walk unaided, he liked to prove that he was strong enough to do it, and didn't like anybody trying to help him when he followed his progenitor on his rounds.

Optimus admired his determination, but sometimes it became a hassle. After all, having been so sick for so long, Bumblebee still had a very low stamina, and would tire easily. And then Optimus was stuck waiting for him to trudge down the long halls after him, all worn out and panting through his vents.

"Hey!" Optimus stopped again, gave a short sigh, and glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, here came Bumblebee, tiny peds scrambling as he ran toward him.

"You sure I can't just carry you?" Optimus asked, watching as the sparkling stopped by his ped and began panting to cool his circuits, doubled over with servos on his knees.

"Yep, I can do it on my own." Bumblebee said proudly between breaths. "See? Watch me walk."

After a few more kliks, the tiny creature pushed himself upright and began to strut ahead of Optimus, picking his peds up emphatically as he went. Optimus smiled in spite of himself behind his face mask as he watched. Nobody really gave much thought to walking, and here Bumblebee was thrilled just to be able to. He treated it almost as if it were some special power, like Mirage's invisibility.

But as inspiring and just cute as it all was, Optimus had work to do, and waiting for Bumblebee was making his rounds take a lot longer than he had the time for. Something was going to have to be done, or he would be at this for joors.

"Say, Bumblebee," Optimus called.

Bumblebee stopped and turned on his heel, a smile on his faceplate. "Yes?"

"Your walking is the most impressive I think I've ever seen," Optimus said. In response, Bumblebee's smile grew, his chassis puffed out with pride, and he rose onto his tiptoes.

Seeing this, Optimus, still smiling himself, continued in over-the-top, dramatic tones. "Yes, in fact, your stride is so amazing, it makes even my walking look bad. But… Don't you think that could be a bit of a problem?"

Bumblebee tilted his helm confusedly, frowning and raising an optic ridge. "How d'ya mean?" He asked.

"Well," Optimus said, crouching down to better look at his little sparkling, "If all the troops see you, walking around the way you are, outdoing me so, it'll make me look bad! They'll think, 'Prime must be getting old, Bumblebee looks much more noble than he does!' And then, I'll be out of the job."

Bumblebee giggled. "Come on, that's just silly." He answered. "But I guess, if you really insist…"

He ran back toward Optimus, servos outstretched. He had almost reached the Prime, when he tripped over his foot, sending himself hurdling forward. But before he hit the ground, he landed safely in a pair of deep blue servos, his faceplate now covered by his progenitor's palms.

"Are you alright, Bumblebee?" Optimus asked.

Bumblebee pushed himself up and smiled sheepishly up at him. "I'm fine." He said. "See?"

His attempt to stand landed him on his aft, and Optimus couldn't hold back a chuckle. Gently, he lifted Bumblebee up and placed him on the space between his neck and bulky shoulder-armor.

Perhaps the little yellow mech would be a bit more graceful when he grew up.


	3. かっき Energy

_Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑 - The Angel's Smile_

_かっき (energy)_

_._

Bumblebee folded his arms poutily as he sat down in his guardian's lap, dwarfed by the Prime's massive size. As it was, Optimus had just finished his rounds, and was finally sitting down to take a break and feed the tiny sparkling his supper.

Optimus offered the child the bottle, but he turned away, sticking out his lower maxilla. The Prime sighed, feeling a little frustrated, but still kept up the same good-natured smile, trying to be understanding with the stubborn child. He was still fairly new at this sort of thing, and had a lot of trouble in these kinds of situations, but at least he was patient.

"Come on now, Bumblebee… Aren't you hungry?" Optimus asked.

"Yes." He answered.

"Then why won't you eat?" Optimus sighed.

"'Coz I don't wanna." The sparkling answered poutily.

Optimus's shoulders sloped. The logic of a child was still something far beyond him, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why little Bumblebee didn't want to eat. What did he have to do to convince him? Why was he even refusing the food to begin with?

"But why?" Optimus asked exhaustedly.

"I just don't wanna." Bumblebee answered.

He sighed. The sparkling was being unusually difficult, and Optimus couldn't even begin to figure out why he was acting this way. Was he in a foul mood, or just showing the fickle ways he'd been told a child Bumblebee's age would? Maybe he was feeling ill again, and needed to be taken to the medical facility? What if he was experiencing more symptoms of his previous illness?

Optimus reached up with his free hand and rubbed at his temple, his stress made worse by baseless worry. Chances were, nothing was really wrong, he just needed to figure out what it was Bumblebee wanted. But for the exhausted Prime, that was far easier said than done. After such a long day working so hard, his mind and spark alike burdened by the trials of his hefty responsibilities, it was difficult trying to handle something as unreasonable as a child. Even more so, when his little Bumblebee had been so sick before, and still felt its aftereffects to this day.

He gently nudged Bumblebee, and softly spoke.

"Now, Bumblebee… Just co-operate with me, alright? Eat up, and I'll give you a little treat when you're finished."

Bumblebee continued to refuse, turning his tiny helm away.

"I don't want to co-opera-ate." He answered.

"Not even for a sweet?" Optimus asked wearily.

The child shook his head.

This wasn't working at all. The Prime was completely out of energy and being as tired as he was, even his infinite patience was beginning to wear thin. But he couldn't just give up; Bumblebee needed to eat!

Around then, it occurred to him that there was still one route he hadn't yet tried. It was the sort of realization where one stumbles across a completely obvious and simple path that had been missed in favor of more complicated things. The sort of realization that makes one feel silly, if not completely stupid, for not thinking of it sooner.

"Well then, what do you want?" Optimus asked.

Bumblebee looked up at him with those pure, luminescent optics, and blinked.

"I don't wanna be fed anymore." He said quietly.

Oh! So that was it. It made sense; the growing child was always trying so hard to be independent. Sometimes it almost seemed as if he was trying to prove to everyone that he was strong and didn't need help, that even if he had been so sick and still remained somewhat feeble, he would be just fine without sympathy.

Optimus smiled wearily behind his mask. Bumblebee didn't need to prove anything to him. Simply by overcoming his crippling illness and being able to function like a normal child, he had already proved himself many times over, and nobody knew that better than his own father.

"You mean, you're ready to do it yourself," Optimus clarified, warmth in his voice.

Bumblebee nodded, taking on an guilty look and an embarrassed half-smile. "Sorry…"

"Don't be sorry," Optimus said lovingly, rubbing Bumblebee's helm. "When you want something, you should just come out and tell me."

"Okay, I will. Err, I mean, yes, sir." Bumblebee said cheerfully, his guilty look gone, an open smile in its place.

Optimus held out the bottle to Bumblebee, who accepted it with both servos. As tired as he was, he still had to appreciate the child's spirit; he was so independent and strong, even at such a young age. Physically, of course, he was still weak, but he was far more fit now than he had been. Really, it was amazing to think about how far he'd gotten, when once he had not been able even to eat at all.

xxx

_Vorns previously__…_

Optimus sat by Bumblebee's berth, watching the sparkling lie silently amidst the cold, dwarfing medical equipment. He had, of course, continued normally to perform his many duties as Prime, but every spare moment he had was spent right here, sitting next to his child, watching over him or simply napping by the sparkling's berth.

He had, on this particular day, been as exhausted or more so than he was now, and on top of that, worry clutched his spark that little Bumblebee, still so very weak and frail, might still not survive.

He lifted his helm, looking up at a smallish machine with a transparent cylindrical tank, filled with dimly-glowing energon. Its purpose was to feed the energon directly into Bumblebee's body at certain points of the day through a thin tube inserted through the child's servo, just beneath his wrist.

Optimus sighed, and gently stroked Bumblebee's white cheek.

"Poor thing…" He mumbled gloomily. "You can't even eat on your own, can you…?"

The child cooed softly in his sleep, but otherwise did not respond.

"You're still in here?"

At the sound of the unexpected voice, Optimus turned abruptly, startled. His shoulders tensed and he raised his clenched servos to chassis-level, taking a defensive stance. The gesture, however, was met with good-natured laughter.

"Hey, hey, it's only me!" The intruder said, baring his palms in mock surrender.

"Oh." Optimus relaxed, feeling slightly sheepish. "I'm sorry, Ratchet. I'm just… feeling a little tired, that's all."

"Oh, is that all," Ratchet replied, "Look at you, you're absolutely jumpy!"

Optimus turned back to Bumblebee, returning his servo to continue gently stroking the child's cheek.

"I just haven't been getting enough recharge." Optimus reiterated.

"Well then, why don't you take a nap now?" Ratchet offered.

"I don't think I can sleep."

Ratchet stepped next to Optimus and put a servo on his shoulder, causing him to look up at the medic. His expression was stern, and his grip firm and unyielding, but too gentle to cause discomfort.

"As your doctor, I am telling you to get some recharge." Ratchet said. "Come on, Prime. Nothing's gonna happen without you if you catch a nap."

"I suppose so…" Optimus sighed.

"Good." Ratchet said, tapping the Prime's shoulder. "Just lay back and try to relax. I'll even get ya a cushion."

Optimus leaned back in his chair and looked once more at the sleeping Bumblebee. The tiny sparkling stirred slightly as the machine next to him hummed to life, allowing energon to trickle through the clear tube beneath his servo.

"Ratchet?" Optimus called, stopping the medic before he could leave. "How long do you think it'll be until he gets better?"

Ratchet turned and looked over his shoulder at the concerned Prime. A look of nervousness crossed his faceplate momentarily, before he fabricated a warm smile to try and soothe the larger mech's nerves.

"Ah, I wouldn't suspect it'll be too long." Ratchet said. "A couple Diuns, tops."

Even with his mask on, it was clear when Optimus smiled, his optics softening and his shoulders sloping slightly. "Thank you, Ratchet."

"Just try and get some sleep, would ya?" Ratchet answered.

Optimus nodded, and Ratchet excused himself from the room. Once the electronic door had shut behind him, the medic reached up and brushed his forehead with his palm, feeling anxious.

Of course he felt bad; he'd just lied, not just to the Prime, but to his friend. But what was he supposed to do? The last thing he ever wanted was to have to tell him the truth. 'Bumblebee', as the Prime had taken to calling the kid, had a miserable outlook. How could he not? He had probably been lying in that garbage for several orns. His immune system was shot, and he was still feeling the side effects of malnourishment and outright physical neglect.

On top of that, he was sick even before he was thrown away, which could help explain why his progenitors had done that. It was hard enough feeding a sparkling in these famished times, and Bumblebee was far from the first to be abandoned, in the garbage or otherwise. But a kid who was sick… Nobody had the resources for that.

Maybe, compounded with the other reasons, they honestly didn't want to have to watch the kid die. Maybe they would rather have given up on him than fight to try and save him only to have him offline.

Ratchet chuckled humorlessly in the dark. Hah… Of course not. What reason did he have to try and justify the actions of people so sparkless as to leave their own child to die as common trash?

If it weren't for people like Optimus Prime, Ratchet would already have completely lost his drive to continue healing others. In a world that was full of mechs who would throw away their children or kill one another for a scrap of energon, a world torn by war and famine, it was people like the compassionate Prime, or like Jazz, who had brought Bumblebee here to begin with, that made his work worthwhile.

Ratchet opened a storage closet and took a cushion from one of the shelves, gripping it tightly in frustration.

This was the problem with trying to care about people: It wasn't just that the cynical doctor went through life expecting Cybertronian nature to cause them to hurt him or let him down, it was that if they didn't, then it seemed that he would have to let them down.

He took the cushion back to the yellow sparkling's room and tucked it under the half-dozing Prime's helm, startling the larger mech awake. Optimus gave a start, but Ratchet didn't, couldn't, stay and apologize. He just turned and left, without a word.

This whole caring thing was harder than he thought, Ratchet decided. He was going to need some high grade.


	4. あそびじかん Playtime

_Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑 - The Angel's Smile_

_あそびじかん / おそれ (playtime / anxiety)_

_._

"Hey, git outta the way!"

A loud voice, thick with some south-Cybertronian accent, roared out into the hall. Startled Autobots parted on either side, some giving yelps or shrieks, or shielding themselves with datapads and briefcases. There was nowhere they could go fast enough to avoid what was coming next.

A hulking red Autobot, armor marred by age-old battle scars, came charging down the center of the hallway like a bull, his wake alone threatening to knock over any mech who dared step too close to his path. The massive beast gave a roar that almost broke into a laugh as he cleared the hall, nearly colliding with the opposite wall as he came to a turn in its path. He just barely managed to make the turn, his legs slipping beneath him and causing him to skid, which marred up the floor a little.

All the while, the quiet, high-pitched sound of a sparkling's giggling could just barely be heard over the commotion, though it was difficult to tell just where it was coming from.

With the potential disaster past, those still standing in the hall were left with the aftermath. Datapads were scattered on the ground and Autobots were pinned against the walls, many panting through their vents as they tried to get a handle on what had just happened.

"Wh-what was that?" An orange young rookie exclaimed, stunned by the experience.

Prowl, who had been here considerably longer, dusted himself off nonchalantly. To him, things like this were fairly routine occurrences. "That was Ironhide. Optimus Prime's bodyguard."

The rookie scoffed. "I think the Prime's gonna need better security than that if he plans on stickin' around!" He exclaimed.

"Don't be fooled by this incident." Prowl answered. "Ironhide is a serious, capable, and dedicated mech… Most of the time."

Feeling that the danger had passed, he stepped away from the wall and walked calmly in the direction the large red mech had gone.

"Now then." Prowl said, "If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with the Prime."

Prowl followed the path of destruction left in Ironhide's wake, ultimately finding the veteran standing watch over Optimus and Bumblebee. Parent and child were sitting on the ground, laughing together as they played some sort of little game.

As the Datsun approached, he could make the sight and sounds out a little more clearly. Intrigued, and having arrived just a few extra astroseconds early, he paused to watch for a moment. His report would be unsettling at best; logic told him to give the Prime a moment to play with the sparkling so as to slightly soften its harsh impact.

The child's voice rang out as he gave his battle cry, raising up a small toy sword constructed of two old rods tied together. Swinging it carelessly in the air, he charged toward the towering red-and-blue mech, who in turn raised his servos, curling his fingers in the shape of talons.

"Grrr… _Rawr_!" To Prowl, hearing the Prime make such a noise, throaty and animal as it was, was inconceivable. But to Bumblebee, it was just his progenitor, playing a part in a game; an ordinary occurrence.

Then, making all the worse, Optimus got up on all fours like some sort of beast, still making those wretched noises, and began swiping lightly at Bumblebee with a servo as large as the child's body. Fearlessly, Bumblebee ran towards him, impromptu-sword in hand, doubtlessly to slay whatever mythical monster Optimus was supposed to be.

A hit to the shoulder, and Optimus roared again, swiping playfully at Bumblebee, who deftly avoided the ill-aimed blow and poked at the Prime's facemask.

Across the room, Prowl noticed, Ironhide was looking at him. The veteran seemed confused as to whether he should alert the Prime to the Datsun's presence or not, but Prowl expected nothing less; the aged mech was guided by his own ridiculous emotions, rather than logic. It didn't matter if protocol told the red mech to interrupt the Prime's silly games as long as Ironhide thought better of it.

Prowl sighed. Such lack of professionalism was going to cost them the war. If he didn't have far more pressing matters on his processor, he would drag Ironhide out of here right now and have him scrubbing every floor in the base on his servos and knee joints for the next three orns. As it was, he planned to get back to him about his previous horsing-around later, once the issue at hand had been resolved.

The two spectators locked optics for a moment, Prowl glaring meaningfully at Ironhide, the older mech merely watching the Datsun and waiting for his move. It wasn't long before Prowl's logical mind decided that the staring match was over, however, as he realized that Ironhide could and most likely would just stand there for joors if not orns.

So, he simply interrupted the game himself. "A-hem."

Optimus looked up, startled, a servo still raised to bat at Bumblebee, who punished his momentary distraction with a bop to the chassis with his sword. The Prime chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and scooped Bumblebee up into his arms before rising to his feet, stroking the youngling's helm lovingly.

"Greetings, Prowl." Optimus said. "What is it you've come for?"

"Please excuse the interruption, sir," Prowl answered crisply, "I've come to make my report."

Optimus nodded. "Excused. Please proceed."

"There have been numerous Decepticon sightings along the outskirts of Iacon." Prowl said. "I fear they may be planning an attack on one of the gates."

Bumblebee squirmed in Optimus's arms, waving his sword up at his progenitor. The Prime kept a firm hold on the child, rubbing his back gently to try and calm him down. The regal mech's optics darkened with worry, and he nodded gravely, his happy mood gone in an instant.

"Take measures to secure them." Optimus instructed. "Seal and reinforce the gates, and place as many units as we have available within the perimeter. Hopefully, we'll be able to deter them, but if that fails, we must be ready to fend them off. Iacon must not be lost."

Bumblebee stopped squirming and looked up at the Prime's face, lowering his toy. Anxiety crept onto the youngling's features; whatever could make his father worry like that had to be bad.

"Yes, sir." Prowl answered. "Speaking of the matter, Ultra Magnus has requested your personal assistance at Gate 5. He has informed me that it in particular requires special attention, as Megatron himself has been twice sighted there. Possibly an intimidation tactic, but all the same, it is vital to exercise extreme caution at this point."

Bumblebee didn't know just who or what Megatron was, but when that word was spoken, the mood in any room instantly fell. That word instantly ended all conversation and brought fear and anxiety to anyone who heard it. Whatever it meant, that word was bad.

And though he wasn't sure just what Prowl was talking about, he hoped Ultra Magnus was alright; if he was anywhere near the thing called 'Megatron', he was probably in a lot of trouble.

"Megatron," Optimus echoed breathlessly. There was a short silence, as there always was when that word was spoken, before the Prime nodded and said commandingly, "Alright, take extra measures to fortify the other four gates. Tell them to increase security as much as possible."

"What of Bumblebee?" Prowl asked.

"Take Bumblebee to Jazz on your way. Thank you, Prowl." He handed the youngling over before turning quickly to Ironhide. "Ironhide, you're with me."

In an instant, their playtime was over, and Optimus was running with Ironhide for one door while Prowl, now carrying Bumblebee against his chassis, went swiftly through another. Bumblebee clutched his sword close and clung to Prowl's servos, trembling with fear.

The tiny creature switched off his optics and offered up a whispered prayer to Primus that whatever the Megatron was, it wouldn't get Ultra Magnus, Ironhide, or his father.

xxx

Bumblebee followed Jazz quietly as the young saboteur traversed the halls. He was being so quiet, in fact, that the two-toned mech checked behind him several times to see if he was even still there.

"You okay, Bumblebee?" Jazz asked at last.

"Yeah," Bumblebee sighed.

Jazz crouched down and tilted up Bumblebee's chin with the tip of a single finger. He looked into the sparkling's optics and saw a deep sadness and worry unfitting of a child his age, especially one so energetic and cheerful.

"What's wrong, kid?" Jazz asked.

"Nothin'." Bumblebee insisted.

"Aww, come on, Bumblebee." Jazz pressed gently. "You know you can tell me anythin'."

"Um…" Bumblebee looked off to the side, tapping his leg with his toy sword. "Don't really wanna have to ask…"

"Naw, it's alright. You know I'll tell ya what you need, and I won't repeat it to anyone, either." Jazz said. "Cross my spark."

"Well yeah, but it's not like that." Bumblebee said. He lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper. "I want to ask you something, but I think it's bad."

"What is it?" Jazz whispered.

"What… what is Megatron?" Bumblebee asked, his voice trembling slightly. To have the cursed word come out of his own mouth!

Jazz stiffened. The line of his mouth stayed almost completely the same, but no doubt his optics widened behind his visor. He gently picked Bumblebee up and began to carry him down the hall, his shoulders visibly tense. The child might not have understood what the word meant, but he could see its effect even on the ever-cool Jazz, whom he admired deeply. Now he really regretted asking.

"Come on in here with me." Jazz said softly. "This is gonna be kind of hard to explain."

Jazz set Bumblebee gently down on the boy's small berth before pulling up a chair and sitting down next to him. His body was still just as tense, but when he spoke again, his voice was calm and even.

"Now, do you know what a Decepticon is, Bumblebee?" Jazz asked.

Bumblebee nodded. "Yeah, they're the bad guys." He said. "Optimus and everyone, they make sure that Decepticons never come here. Because if they get here, then nobody can be happy."

"That's right." Jazz said. "Well, see, Megatron is their leader. He's the biggest, baddest Decepticon, and we don't like him around- even more so than we don't want the other Decepticons around. Y'see?"

"Ohh, it makes sense now!" Bumblebee exclaimed. After a moment, however, he paused, looking rather confused, and tapped his lip thoughtfully. "But then, how come ever' body's scared of him? I thought Autobots always win against Decepticons!"

"Well, we do," Jazz said gently, "it's just that Megatron… Well, he's different. Stronger. And even though Autobots always win, sometimes Megatron makes bad things happen for them. He hurts them."

"Hurts them? Like… like the people in the medbay?"

"That's exactly it." Jazz said, snapping his fingers. "If Megatron gets you, you might end up in the medbay."

"And then you have to get a shot." Bumblebee added grumpily, folding his arms. "Or he puts you in th' CR tank, and that's even worse."

Jazz couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Exactly." He answered.

"So, that's why ever' body's scared of Megatron? 'Coz he puts 'em in the medbay?" Bumblebee asked, reiterating.

"That's exactly it." Jazz said. "So always be sure you avoid him."

"Yessir, I will!" Bumblebee said, saluting with his little impromptu sword.

He took on another thoughtful look before asking, "Hey Jazz? Optimus and Ultra Magnus and Ironhide, they won't end up in th' medbay, right? Prowl said that they went to see Megatron."

Jazz tapped the top of Bumblebee's helm fondly. "Aw, of course not. They're way too strong for that, kid! Now come on, how about you and I play a game?"

"Really, you mean it?" Bumblebee asked, sounding a little unsure.

"Psh, don't I always tell you the truth?" Jazz responded. "Now come on, you can be the heroic Autobot, and I'll be the bad guy."

Bumblebee's look of worry melted away, and, giggling sweetly, he came toward Jazz, swinging his little toy sword. When he got too close, Jazz grabbed him and tickled under his arms, making it tough to counterattack.

Well, Jazz thought to himself, that might not have been the whole story, but at least it would tide the kid over for now. Certainly, the tyrant sent enough Autobots to the medbay, when he wasn't completely obliterating them. Still, there wasn't a doubt in his processor that the heroic Optimus Prime would do fine against his nightmarish arch nemesis.

It was ironic, then, that just a few joors later, Jazz would receive a message from the field, interrupting his game with Bumblebee just as the child's previous game with Optimus had been interrupted.

He was to leave immediately and escort Ratchet to Gate 5. A battle was raging, the two sides fighting violently for control of it. Megatron was there personally. The Autobots were losing.

.

_-To be continued._


	5. 戦争 War

_Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑 - The Angel's Smile_

_戦争 (War)_

.

The siege on Iacon's fifth gate was one of the first large-scale battles Optimus faced as Prime, and it was one of the most hellish he would face for vorns to come.

When he had first arrived, everything had been quiet- almost surreally so, like a weighted calm before a violent storm. Ultra Magnus had greeted him uneasily and explained the situation, the sightings, and the anxiety the troops now felt.

The two set themselves to further securing and fortifying the gate, when suddenly, the silence was brought to a horrific, explosive end. The low, deafening boom had seemed even more surreal than the quiet that preceded it, shaking the world around them. Screams rose, shots fired, and with a sickening drop in his belly, Optimus knew the battle for all of Iacon had begun.

xxx

Gate 5 was the last and the largest of Iacon's towering protective gates, and among the most well-built on all of Cybertron. When open, it allowed direct access to Iacon's central commercial district, and thus, it usually saw the most traffic.

The loss of any of the gates or any section of the electronic wall surrounding Iacon would be devastating, but if they managed to capture this one in particular, there would be little standing between them and Iacon's center of commerce. If they were to capture or raze it, it would strike a serious blow both to the civilians who depended on it for their livelihoods and what little energon still changed hands there, and to the military Autobots who traded there for supplies.

To make matters worse, if the Autobots were unable to stop the Decepticons from marching on the sizeable commercial districts, there wasn't much standing between them and the Decagon, the former military center now acting as the Autobots' central fortress. And the loss of the Decagon could very well lead to the loss of the war, not to mention all the Autobots inside; Optimus's own son among them.

The Prime raced to his position, his brother and his bodyguard by his side, all three resolute in their noble cause. They couldn't, wouldn't let the Decepticons take Iacon. Everything and everyone depended on this, not only in Iacon, but perhaps on all of Cybertron.

In their sparks, Optimus Prime, Ultra Magnus, Ironhide, and every Autobot around them knew that even if they were forced to lay down their own lives, they wouldn't let them down.

The sounds of war filled Jazz's audials as he raced towards Gate 5, Ratchet close behind. His chassis tightened with fear and grief as he approached the battlefield; he bowed his helm, but had no choice but to keep on running just the same.

A portion of the gate had been broken through, and the Autobots struggled desperately to keep the Decepticons out. There were so many bodies already. Even from a distance, Jazz could barely take the sight.

When finally they arrived, Ratchet was quick to get to work, joining the medics already present in their frantic, desperate bid to save as many of the injured as possible. Jazz stayed to stand guard over them, joining several Autobots much larger and more well-built than he.

He gripped his rifle so tightly that his palms began to slip. He shifted his hold slightly, trembling fingers pressed to the trigger. This was his first major battle, and in spite of his naturally cool demeanor, he was scared stiff. Why wouldn't he be? Decepticons were everywhere, inside the city he called home, and there was next to nothing he could do about it. He could barely wrap his mind around all of it, especially regarding the death toll.

A few Decepticons strayed from the fray and headed towards the medical tent. Jazz and the other guards were quick to meet them with a hail of gunfire, sparking a battle within a battle. The black-and-white youth struggled to fire, his fear and enthusiasm conflicting with a reluctance to kill. His trembling finger pressed the trigger into the metal, causing bursts of brilliant blue plasma to explode from the nozzle. One of the Decepticons roared and fell back, gripping his side in pain. Jazz could hardly believe he'd managed to do it, even if the target wasn't killed.

The Autobot guards pushed forward, firing relentlessly on the brash Decepticons until finally, each member of the stray group had either fallen or retreated. Satisfied with this, the guards checked each other briskly for injuries before returning to their posts in front of the medical tent.

Jazz's vents clicked open, and he began to pant, trying hard to cool down his circuitry before the next attack. At least now that he'd proven to himself that he could do it once, firing on a 'con again might not be so hard. If nothing else, he just needed to remember that others were depending on him. If he could not bring himself to shoot the enemy, it could cost his allies their lives instead, and that wasn't a trade he was willing to make.

With this in mind, the trembling youth lifted his rifle once more and steeled himself for the next round. It wouldn't be long now until another round of Decepticons strayed from the group and attempted to take out the medics; not when they knew it could cripple the Autobots so vitally. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to kill them, at least not yet, but he could still damage his targets badly enough to disable them or chase them away.

But no matter what, there was no way he would allow them to get past.

xxx

In the Decagon, large display screens mounted on the walls acted as windows wherever they were necessary. The fortress had to remain without such obvious and penetrable flaws, and the best alternative was to replace windows with miniature cameras connected to these screens in a closed circuit, allowing them to act not only as windows but as a valuable security measure and an audiovisual PA system with feeds from the Prime's personal office, a few of the other higher-ups' offices, and the primary security area.

It was at the base of one of these screens that Bumblebee sat; toy sword still in hand, a pout on his white face, and his tiny helm rested on chubby arms. For all appearances, he seemed to be sulking, but the truth was far more serious. He was scared and alone, feeling smaller and weaker than ever.

On that screen, he could see the fighting off in the distance, past the central commercial district. The Prime's private room within the Decagon was high above Iacon- being on the top floor of a building set on the city's uppermost layer -and the electronic window let him see just about everything above the surface. From here, it all seemed so distant, and yet it couldn't be closer to home. Everyone and everything he'd ever known was outside on that battlefield, with the horrible Megatron.

Out here, there was nothing he could do to change that. So, he decided, he would just have to get closer.

Yes, that was it! Maybe there was something he could do to help! Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to help his father to chase away the faceless monster. Who knew? His impact could even change the outcome of the fight, just like all the heroes he'd read about in his educational datafiles. The thought alone filled him with excitement and a newfound courage, the kind of courage that made him feel like he could move mountains.

Bumblebee rose to his feet and lifted his sword, helm raised proudly. He couldn't just lay down and give up. He was Optimus Prime's son, and he was going to do everything he could to help. He was going to go out there and help them fight, because Autobots always win. There was no way he could let his family face this battle alone!

He was going to save the day and make sure the Autobots won this time, too, and if that meant facing an uncertain fate; injury, the possibility of shots or CR tanks- even Megatron himself, then so be it.

xxx

Behind Jazz and the line of guards, Ratchet's team was working feverishly to save and restore as many of the injured as possible in as short a time as they could manage. New patients were being brought in worryingly steadily, putting them in over their helms.

Ratchet bit into his lip as he soldered broken wires, attempting to save the movement of a young soldier's legs. It was another hopeless case, but he had to try anyway. If he'd learned anything from Optimus Prime and that kid of his, it was to keep fighting even in the face of certain failure.

He chuckled dryly to himself. The memory, still just a few vorns old, would stick with him forever. Bumblebee had been a far more hopeless case than this, to the point that Ratchet had actually lied to Optimus about the chances of his survival. It had actually hurt the old surgeon to see how attached the Prime had unwisely gotten to the infant, especially when his condition had just kept on getting worse. The love that Optimus felt for the child had made Ratchet want badly to save him, but what was he to do? He'd been so far beyond hope.

Ratchet carefully clipped out a segment of one of the broken and frayed wires and replaced it with another one taken from the soldier's own body. This could work, if he could just get the two to connect…

When Ratchet was young, he had been a very hopeful and altruistic medical student. But the spark in that wide-eyed youth had been stomped out by the dark truths of being a doctor, and the war and famine above all had made him bitter and cold. That little yellow rodent's near-death and turnaround had done him a favor, he supposed.

He lifted the soldier's leg and bent the knee, compressing the hydraulics inside. Nope, wasn't working. Quickly, he let it down and took another of the damaged wires in the youth's hip. Perhaps if he could meld together two parallel cords… It was a long shot, but it was the only shot the youth had at ever walking again.

Certainly, Bumblebee hadn't changed his bitter outlook, oh no. But he had showed him one thing for sure, that it ain't over 'til it's over. Or as he would come to hear it said, millennia later, on a rock called Earth, 'it ain't over until the fat lady sings'.

A shower of orange flares jumped from the hip as Ratchet soldered the cords together. He tweaked a few parts and wires around them, rerouted the flow of power, and reactivated the soldier. This time, it would work.

"You're fine, now get over there and rest." Ratchet told him grouchily. "I need this table."

The soldier wearily stood up, saluted and thanked him hastily, and limped over to the corner to rest with a line of others. It would be a while before he regained full use of that leg, but at least he still had it. He may not have known just how close he'd come to losing it, but he was grateful, and Ratchet had the satisfaction of knowing he'd done his job not only well, but above and beyond.

Ratchet began work immediately on another patient. With all the little victories here and there, he was almost starting to feel good about himself and his work; he had yet to lose a single patient this battle.

Of course something just had to go wrong then. Of course Ratchet was alerted by the sounds of shouting and people calling his name, specifically.

The CMO looked up quickly, to see several Autobots struggling to get into the medical tent, supporting an injured comrade between them. Behind the small group, the guards fought viciously to keep away a pack eerie, cackling predators to get at the injured mech and pick him off.

The unmistakable form of Optimus Prime was helped gingerly into the tent, where his legs gave way and he collapsed almost immediately to his servos and knee joints.

"Hey, you! Take over for me!" Ratchet snapped at a nearby doctor, and rushed to help the wounded Prime.

"Ratchet…" Prime whispered. "Took it pretty bad… Megatron… He's got a… a Fusion cannon."

"Shit!" Ratchet cried. A Fusion cannon, of all the things! The rare weapon, illegal since the day of its horrid invention, was as deadly and destructive as they came. It drew on a cosmic power Ratchet had little understanding of to obliterate entire armies in a single fully-charged shot. It was little wonder the gate had been broken, or that so many casualties had already been incurred in such a short time, if not in Ratchet's tent. He could only wonder how long it would take before it was ready for the next shot. Lucky for them, it had two drawbacks; its long recharge period, and its potential to injure or kill its wielder from the recoil alone. Although, in Megatron's case, Ratchet was sure that the latter wouldn't be an issue.

The doctor gently helped Optimus into a sitting position, leaning him against the stiff electrofiber wall of the tent. He let out a low hiss at seeing the injury; it was every bit as bad as he'd expected, and by the looks of it, Megatron's cannon hadn't even been fully charged at the time.

Optimus's entire right side had been badly damaged; his chassis, torso, side, and arm had been broken open, the edges singed and jagged. It was a mess of hot energon, mech fluid, wires, cables, and circuitry.

Yet, the Prime no longer seemed concerned about his wounds. He looked out the door of the tent, watching the battle going on outside. Even with the addition of the soldiers who'd carried him here, Ironhide among them, the line of guards were barely able to keep the Decepticons at bay, and Optimus knew it wouldn't be much longer until the enemy soldiers broke through.

"Ratchet, they need help." He choked out.

"Don't you think I know that?" Ratchet retorted. "There's nothing I can do! Now sit still, you're hurt real bad!"

"Get… get Ultra Magnus!" Optimus insisted, reaching toward Ratchet with his good arm. "Call him… Please, help them!"

"Primus, Prime!" Ratchet snapped, already cleaning the wounds. "There's nothin' I can do! I have to take care of you first!"

"Then I'll-" Optimus was cut off by Ratchet pouring a stinging cleaning solution directly onto his hurts. He hissed in pain, gritting his dental plating hard behind his dented facemask.

"No you won't." Ratchet snorted. "You'll sit right here while I repair you and they take care of it themselves."

"But they, they'll never be able to stop them!" Optimus insisted.

Ratchet laughed dryly, patting away the excess solution with a clean white cloth. "Never, is it?" He asked, sounding amused in some twisted, overworked and recharge-deprived way. "You should know better than anyone that there is no 'never'. Ain't over 'til it's over."

"What?" Optimus's voice had never seemed so quiet before.

"That damn kid of yours is the living proof, Optimus." Ratchet said, his tone softening as he dispensed his wisdom and tried to calm the anxious Prime. "Now listen; you're hurt, and ya can't go out there. Ultra Magnus is busy holding off the Decepticons. And I think Ironhide and Jazz and everybody out there can handle themselves, don't you? If things get real bad, I'll get somebody out here for you. Okay, sir?"

Optimus fell silent, his gaze cast off out the door of the tent. Ironhide led the charge, the veteran's sheer size giving him an advantage over many of the attacking Decepticons. Around him, the other Autobots gathered in formation, united by the experienced old soldier into a miniature army.

They were beginning to turn the tide. They actually stood a chance.

Finally, Optimus gave a slow, weary nod. "Alright." He said simply. "I understand."

"Good." Ratchet said. "Now lie back and try to relax. I'm gonna put ya under now."

Optimus rested against the tent wall, his broad red shoulders sloping slightly as his mighty frame relaxed. Ratchet placed small diodes on his helm that would quickly and quietly put him into a stasis so that the doctor could work without causing his patient further pain.

Through darkening optics, the Prime could see Ironhide, Jazz, and their comrades marching to victory against their enemies, and he felt a sense of pride and relief wash over him. Ratchet was right; they still had a fighting chance, and it was best that Ultra Magnus maintain his post. He was just fortunate that the stubborn old doctor wouldn't follow orders made by a mind clouded by pain and distracted by anxiety.

But it was the strangest thing; as everything grew dark and fuzzy, he could almost swear that he saw something small and yellow being swept up into Jazz's arms, protected from the fighting around it by the monochrome grip.

.

_To be continued._


	6. メガトロン Megatron

_Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑 - The Angel's Smile_

_メガトロン (Megatron)_

.

The fighting raged on as the sky grew dark and Alpha Centauri slowly faded from view, to be replaced by the spotty glow of the black-and-orange moon. Autobots and Decepticons charged towards each other in one last clash, one last struggle for control of the all-important Gate 5.

The powerful blue form of Ultra Magnus courageously led the Autobots' charge, his doubts cast aside in this desperate time of do-or-die. Anxiety clawed at the noble Autobots' minds as they raced toward an uncertain fate, embodied in the countless red stars gleaming in the darkness before them- Decepticon optics, the rapidly-approaching threat of a painful death in battle.

Spotlights shone onto the Decepticons from above as Gate 5's emergency power came online, presenting a fraction of the coming danger. And there, standing proudly at the head of the Decepticon army, illuminated in all his horrific glory, Megatron loomed over the battlefield like death itself. His pale body mimicked the look of a mech long-since passed as he walked towards the Autobots, taking his time as if they presented no threat, not even a challenge to his dominance.

With that fusion cannon on his arm, the Autobots could only pray his arrogance wasn't justified. They could only steel themselves, and hope against wavering hope that all Megatron's deadly might and burning desire to kill, destroy or enslave every living thing before him wouldn't prove a stronger resolve than their own to protect it all.

Jazz tucked his catch under one arm and raised up the other, giving the Decepticons surrounding the medical tent a welcome in bullets. The youth barely knew just how dire the situation was becoming for the Autobots, caught up in the thrill of one victory after another as he and his comrades, led by the ancient mech Ironhide, took out wave upon wave of opportunistic Decepticons, all looking to take out the medics and the invaluable life in their care.

"Yeah!" Jazz gave out a whoop, barely resisting the urge to do a victory dance on the spot. He was scared out of his wits, but that very fear, with the support of his comrades and the noxious thrill of fighting for his life, gave him a rush that made him feel as though he could take on the world.

"Yes! We got 'em!" Ironhide shouted. "But don' letch'er guard down yet! They'll be more comin' quicker 'n' turbo!"

"Can you hold things down here, Ironhide?" Jazz asked. "I've got somethin' I need to deliver to the medical tent!"

He then lifted the struggling sparkling from under his arm up to his chassis, causing Ironhide's optics to go bright.

"What th- Bumblebee!" Ironhide cried. "What in Primus's holy name he doin' out here? He's gon' get his self killed!"

At hearing Ironhide's voice, Bumblebee quit struggling and looked up guiltily, his servos dangling in shame. He was still clutching the toy sword, now holding it against Jazz's arm.

"I take that as, 'permission granted'?" Jazz asked.

"Just git outta here!" Ironhide snapped. "He's a good kid; he can stay with th' medics!"

"He'd better!"

With that, Jazz turned and sprinted back towards the medical tent, grumbling hurried reprimands to Bumblebee, along with the promise that later, he'd come back and give him a real, nice, detailed talking to, and that Prime was definitely going to hear about this. The youngling responded by looking even more guilty and ashamed, just dangling quietly in Jazz's arms as he was carried to the medical tent.

It wouldn't have taken long for Jazz to reach his destination, but then, all at once, he heard shouting resonating behind him. Clutching Bumblebee, he whipped around, raising his gun to fire. He opened his mouth to ask who was coming, but never had the chance.

Decepticons were beginning to break through the Autobots' line of defense. They were marching toward the medical tent amidst a hail of gunfire, armed to the teeth and taking a sick delight in the destruction around them. The monsters were approaching fast, turning the tides against the Autobots that had been beating them down just moments before. War, Jazz was beginning to see, moved and changed at whiplash-inducing speeds.

As his body steeled itself for combat, his mind raced to make a decision. Should he try to reach the medical tent and leave the others, or should he take the risk and stay here? The answer came easily, but acting on it proved difficult. He had to run, had to get the child to safety and warn the medics and the Prime of the coming danger.

Biting his lip, Jazz turned and sprinted the final stretch. He pushed his body to its limits, but all the same felt as if he were running in mud, the world speeding up around him. The medical tent seemed an eternity away, as if every step he took was one step backwards. The sounds of war roared around him, and the cries of Decepticon and Autobot alike became ever louder, ever closer, ever more real. The rush he had felt before was rapidly fading away, to be replaced by nothing but pure fear and desolation.

He felt alone, felt hopeless. How could he reach the tent? How could he escape the coming enemy? How could he warn them, and what could they possibly do with the knowledge that they might soon be under attack? Would he be more useful on the field? Was he doing the right thing? What if Ironhide needed him?

A stray shot whistling past his head, missing by mere fractions of an astro inch, brought everything into focus. Suddenly, Jazz's movements didn't seem so infuriatingly slow, so eerily nightmare-like.

He twisted his upper body and fired a return, still running feverishly towards his destination. When retaliations came, he turned again and kept on firing, holding Bumblebee carefully in front of his torso, well out of harm's way. No matter what happened to him now, he would get the kid to that damn tent and warn its occupants of the approaching soldiers.

Well behind Jazz, Ironhide rammed shoulder-first into a coming Decepticon, easily plowing the larger Cybertronian to the ground. The ancient veteran refused to be bested, even now. A few stray 'cons might have gotten through his barrier, but he wasn't going to let that happen again.

He trusted his men to take care of those few, sneaky bastards while he was busy on the outer lines, preventing any of their comrades from joining them within the Autobots' ring of protection. So far, it wasn't proving much of a problem, especially for a mech with the size, experience, and sheer determination to succeed that Ironhide possessed. He was a 'bot with a mission, the kind that was probably sparked fighting and would go out the same way. He was bent on succeeding in his task. Every battle he was ever in, he went in assured of complete obliteration, no matter whose it was. Even if this was the one he was destined not to come home from, he was going to go out knowing that he had put his all into it, that his all what exactly what the Decepticons were going to get, and that his all was everything he was giving up for what he believed in.

Decepticons were toppling all around him, and scrambling to get away from the might, fury, and single-minded passion of the blazing red Autobot. Even the most brazen among them was fast becoming terrified of the prospect of dealing with the ancient warrior, of finding himself at the receiving end of that destructive rage.

As more and more of the Decepticons were mowed down, their comrades fought and pushed to retreat, that they might go off and find some slightly less violent Autobots to pick on. After all, most of the Autobots had proven relatively easy to fight and plunder; why should they get stuck with the most vicious titan they had to offer?

Ironhide laughed at the sight of panicked Decepticons' fleeing backsides as around him, his men celebrated another small victory. It might not have been the victory, but it was theirs, and they had earned it. Another wave had taken off, and those few that had gotten through were fast being taken care of. They were winning their war-within-the-war, and for them, things were going pretty nicely.

But as Jazz had just learned, war had a tendency to go from good to bad very quickly. Too quickly, in fact. All it took was one Decepticon to appear, one Decepticon that was not afraid of Ironhide. One mech with the face of Death and the cannon to bring it upon all that dared oppose him. Ironhide froze, the smile gone from his face, and all at once, he became faced with the reality that this might be that one battle that he did not come back from.

The fear in his optics was replaced with the steel of resolve. He took on a fighting stance, cannon gripped tightly.

"If you think this is where I'm goin' out, yer dead wrong, Decepticon!" Ironhide snapped.

A smirk lifted the corner of Megatron's lip as he looked down at Ironhide and slowly lifted his fusion cannon.

"Dead wrong, indeed."

xxx

The reality of war had still not dawned on Bumblebee, even after the spectacle of Jazz's mad dash to the tent. Even with the stray Decepticons hot on their tail, pursued as they were by Autobots bent on ousting the dangerous intruders. He understood the fighting and guns and fear, but there was still too much he did not understand. He had no concept of 'death', and what happened to Transformers affected by it. He had no idea that it was even possible for Autobots to ever lose against Decepticons. Right now, as it was, he had only the barest, most childish notions of what these horrible things meant.

Optimus Prime wanted to keep it that way. He had wanted since Bumblebee was an infant to protect him from the horrors of war, to keep him from the harsh reality of the Autobot-Decepticon conflict and what Megatron wanted with Cybertron. More than anything, he wanted the youngling to have a normal childhood and grow up to become a normal adult.

It was on that day that it became clear that those wishes could never stay true.

Jazz deposited Bumblebee in the medical tent with Ratchet, leaving with him the warning that Decepticons were heading towards them and that they might not be able to head them all off in time to prevent one or two from getting in. Things were getting pretty chaotic, he told them, and there was a good chance that some unaccounted for 'cons might be able to slip past.

Some of the injured rose shakily to their feet to try to and defend their Prime and the medics that had saved them. Others only looked in fear at the entryway, hoping that they would not be called upon. There were those too hurt to stand, and those that simply did not wish to fight. Ratchet and Jazz alike could understand and even relate; it wasn't as if they wanted to be here, away from everything they knew, fighting to stay alive, acting as the frontlines against impossible odds.

Bumblebee stood quietly by Ratchet, frozen. Lacking a grasp on the idea of death, he didn't know what it was he feared, gazing at his still progenitor as he was now. Optimus Prime lied silent on the tent floor, propped up into a sitting position, all kinds of equipment connected to him. The youngling couldn't understand what could've hurt him so badly, what all these wires were for, why he could see into his chassis. This was all so strange and alien to him, and it frightened him badly.

The tip of his toy sword dragging on the ground, Bumblebee hesitantly approached the Prime. He held out his free servo, fingers outstretched.

"Optimus?" He whispered breathlessly. "Hey, come on… Are you okay? Y-you look bad."

Hearing the tiny voice, Ratchet looked down, and, seeing the terrified child, heaved a sigh.

"Hey, kid." He said, not particularly good at this whole 'giving a damn' stuff. "Come on, don't you start worrying. Prime's gonna be fine. Ol' Ratchet's gonna take good care of him."

Bumblebee looked up, chewing on his little lip. "Really?" He asked.

"He sure is." Ratchet answered. "Now go sit quietly so I can fix him up. And don't you dare leave the tent, you got it?"

Bumblebee nodded dutifully, and went over to the edge of the tent, watching out through the door. Even if he couldn't leave the tent, if any Decepticons tried to come inside, the child decided, he would take care of it. He would let nothing get through to harm Optimus Prime.

He needed a distraction, even if he didn't recognize that as he was. His mind couldn't fully wrap around what he'd just seen, or what it meant to him. Something was really, really wrong with his father, and that was all he knew. It shook him, knowing that something had been able to do that, and he knew that it had to have been the Megatron. There just wasn't anything else strong or evil enough to be able to hurt him that way. But he knew, too, that whatever it was, Optimus would be able to get through it, that he would be able to get better. No matter what, the Autobots always won, and Optimus Prime always pulled through, always saved the day.

This time, he just needed a little help.

As Bumblebee watched, his fellow Autobots easily took down the stray Decepticons that had broken through Ironhide's protective ring. He cheered and danced excitedly, jumping up and down and whooping as the soldiers won their battles.

But then, he saw something terrible coming. It was a Decepticon, unlike the rest; larger, and pale grey, with some kind of black gun on his arm. He swept the resistance aside with the sweep of his arms, throwing them aside as if they were nothing.

Bumblebee tensed, and raised his sword in a fighting stance as he had seen the Autobot soldiers do so many times before. Whatever was coming, he might have to fight- might have to enter combat himself for the first time in his short life -in order to protect his father. A look of determination came into his bright optics, and for a singular moment, he took on the appearance of someone with vorns of experience.

Autobots attacked the pale behemoth from either side. Bumblebee could hear shouting, could see the forms of soldiers charging towards it. Recognition clicked in his mind, and he began to realize just what the thing was, why it was coming here, and what was going to happen next. This was none other than Megatron, the thing of nightmares that silenced a room upon mention of his name. This was the thing that had hurt Optimus and could do the same to other Autobots; that sent them to the medics for uncomfortable care.

Jazz rushed past Bumblebee towards Megatron, screaming his feverish battle-cry as he pulled his guns and began to fire. Autobots appeared by the dozen to do battle with the demon, fear in their optics as they let loose their war-cries and unleashed a hail of gunfire upon the enemy. The youngling could only watch in awe as the soldiers rushed into battle against an uncertain fate, unable to truly understand what they knew all too well.

Megatron stopped and began to engage the Autobots in combat. Their circle of protection closed in, but it just didn't seem to be enough. There weren't enough of them, they weren't strong enough- without Ironhide, they lacked a leader.

Bumblebee turned and looked at the medics inside the tent. They were all completely swamped with work, tending to all the soldiers that had been hurt by Megatron and his Decepticons… his own father among them.

It was then that the youngling reached a decision. Despite Ratchet's warning, he had to go out there. Chances were, there wasn't much he could do to help, but maybe, just maybe, he could make a difference. Optimus had told him many a time that in the end, a solitary Autobot with the courage to stand could make all the difference.

All he had to do was have faith. All he had to do was believe that somebody like him could make that difference and make his father proud. With a cry of his own, Bumblebee charged towards the fighting.

The child went unnoticed in his approach, even with his bright coloring. To his frustration, as he tried to get to the fighting, he kept on tripping and stumbling, his feeble legs repeatedly giving way beneath his own weight, and rapidly grew weary. He couldn't even get near them like this, let alone make the difference! He could only sit there on the ground, already exhausted and just about ready to give up. His sickly body was never made for work like this, especially with so much running involved. He was just too weak!

Bumblebee punched and smacked the ground repeatedly with his sword and his tiny fists. He was getting nowhere like this, and now he was stuck. He couldn't go forward or even back to the tent!

All the while, the fighting raged on. With Megatron at the helm, the Decepticons defeated the Autobots in their path and were finally able to break through and march towards the medical tent.

As the enemy walked by him, not noticing such a tiny creature lying on the ground, Bumblebee gathered his strength and slowly rose once more to shaky peds. Maybe this was it, his chance to make a difference! Maybe now he could be that one Autobot to change the tides of battle, to protect Optimus and everyone else still in the medical tent.

Bumblebee took up his sword and raised it high, a determination blazing in his optics that easily rivaled that of a mech hundreds of times his size and thousands of vorns his senior.

"Stop!" He shouted, drawing on all his strength.

Megatron, that horrific monster Bumblebee had only ever even heard of, froze in place, shoulders raised and tense. "What?" He hissed, shocked that anyone would care so little for his own life as to address the tyrant, let alone tell him to 'stop'.

The nightmarish behemoth turned slowly, deliberately, to see who it was. When the Decepticon's optics came into view, the tiny youngling's resolve shook, and his feeble knees nearly gave way; it was like gazing into the Pit, into some unending, soulless chasm bent on consuming all who dared return its lethal stare.

The child began to quiver from the tips of his horns to the bottoms of his peds, but he kept his simple, tiny sword held up threateningly, never once straying from his steadfast pose.

Megatron raised the huge black cannon attached to his forearm, the chasm optics narrowing into a vicious glare of such utter disgust and hatred as the youngling had never even conceived. He pointed the tip of his massive cannon at the child, his stance firm and assured, his body tense and poised to kill.

"A child?" Megatron scoffed. "They bring a child onto a battlefield? You're barely more than a protoform!"

The other Decepticons chuckled and smirked. They gathered behind their leader, waiting for his movement, unwilling to go ahead of him and risk his deadly wrath by challenging his leadership and robbing him of the pleasure of heading the charge and striking the final blow.

Bumblebee bit his lip, gripping his sword uneasily.

"I'm not just a child," he declared, anger and indignation in his voice, "I am an Autobot! Autobots never lose to Decepticons!"

At this, Megatron laughed. The sound was hoarse, but deep and resounding. If a skeletal frame could laugh, Bumblebee thought, then that would be the sound it made. It was so ghostly, but so real, so sadistic and ridiculing all at the same time.

"Hah! Proud little thing, aren't you?" He scoffed. "You sound too much like Optimus Prime, sprouting nonsense like that."

Bumblebee opened his mouth and closed it. Even as young as he was, he knew much better than to go telling somebody like Megatron something as destructive and delicate as the truth about how closely related he truly was to the noble Prime. Though he did not understand just how deeply devastating the consequences would be, he knew that it was a very, very bad thing and something that any Decepticon- let alone _Megatron_ -should never learn about. Instead, he bit his lip again, harder this time.

"What makes you think you can tell me what to do, _Autobot_?" Megatron asked, stressing the title mockingly. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Y-you're Megatron." Bumblebee answered breathlessly. "And I just want you to leave my friends alone!"

Megatron reached down toward Bumblebee, who batted his fingers as hard as he could with his impromptu sword. Unfazed by this, the massive Decepticon grabbed at the child, who turned and tried to run. But Bumblebee was still far too weak and small to escape such a titan, and a second swipe easily caught and snatched him up.

The Decepticon raised him up to optic level, the burning red chasms focused intently on the youngling. Around him, Autobots began to circle and attack once more, redoubling their efforts with characteristic spirit to bring down their hated enemy and free the captured child, but Megatron seemed impervious to their efforts. Bumblebee struggled desperately to escape the crushing grip, to evade those horrid optics and somehow fight against the monster that held him, but he could never hope to compete with Megatron's strength.

Finally, he managed to wriggle free an arm, and began to hit Megatron's servo repeatedly with his sword, grinding his dental plating as fear and horror overcame him and he grew more desperate by the klik.

Megatron snorted his disgust. "'Autobots always win against Decepticons'? Pah! You should have stayed with your progenitors, you pitiful little brat. Let me tell you something; Autobots do not always win. They very often lose, and on this day, all of Iacon will be consumed in flame and born again under Decepticon rule. All your little Autobot friends will die, and because of your brazenness, you alone will be left to watch it all happen. Consider it a_ gift_."

Bumblebee was frozen in place by the words- most of which he couldn't understand -his optics wide, his body quaking. He barely held onto his sword, and he certainly couldn't hold onto his resolve as it fled him.

"I… you… but…"

What followed was all just a blur.

All at once, Megatron's servo opened, and Bumblebee found himself free-falling through the air, facing a drop much too severe for his little body, if not one likely to be fatal. He would end up breaking arms, legs, or worse. He switched off his optics immediately and bit his lip again, clutching his toy against his chassis- unaware of the injuries he inadvertently risked by doing so.

He spun through the air, and vaguely heard himself scream, but the sound was distant and hollow, as if it came from somewhere else far from Bumblebee, far from the medical tent, far even from Gate 5. Somewhere on the way down, he felt consciousness slip away.

Faintly, childishly, he hoped his father wouldn't be angry.

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_To be continued__…_


	7. 戦いの果てで At the Battle's End

_Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑 - __The Angel's Smile_  
戦いの果てで (_At the Battle's End)_

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The tides of battle had turned all too quickly. The Decepticons' rise over the Autobots seemed almost instantaneous, as if the moment Megatron had stepped onto the battlefield, it had all been over.

His Fusion Cannon had made short work of many of their most powerful and vital soldiers. Even Optimus Prime and Ironhide had fallen to the weapon's destructive power, the same power that had destroyed huge portions of Gate 5 without the hint of effort.

Even the heroic Autobots were beginning to lose the desire and fighting spirit that spurred them. Doubt spread like a disease throughout their ranks. How could they stand and fight against such an enemy? When they had been so close to victory, their efforts had been thwarted by a solitary mech armed with the most deadly of weapons.

Megatron was approaching the medical tent, a full unit of Decepticons behind him. There was nothing to block his path, nothing left that could stand against him and prevent him from getting to its precious occupants. Optimus Prime and the Autobots' most skilled medics would be destroyed in mere kliks, and it seemed there was no one left that could stop it from happening!

Megatron, that most horrid of Cybertronians, laughed dryly at the situation. The battle was finally coming to a conclusion, and with it, he thought snidely, the war. From here, what could possibly stop him? The Autobots had fallen! Their lot had hardly been worth his time, from their inexperienced Prime to their most veteran warrior to that pitiful child who'd decided he wanted to be a hero.

His cannon hummed as it charged, drawing its energy from the heart of a collapsed star. He roared his battle cry, and charged towards the final hurdle between the Decepticons and total victory. It would be one, he was certain, that would be easily crossed.

"Megatron! Hold it right there!" The shout caught him off-guard, and he and his soldiers alike wheeled around to see who dared address him this time. What was with these Autobots, that they might be so brazen and altogether… _suicidal_?

The self-assured smirk faded from his faceplate, to be replaced with a dry, taut scowl. "_You_." He growled. "How the hell are you still _functioning_?"

The blue Autobot commander, Ultra Magnus, stood proudly before him, his searing yellow gaze fixed on the demonic Decepticon leader. In his right servo, he held his gun at the ready, unfaltering, unafraid. In his left, he cradled a tiny yellow form that could only be the brazen child.

Behind him stood a rather ragtag unit of Autobot survivors, many of them bearing war injuries of some nature or another. Megatron sneered.

"What's this? Won't be happy until every last Autobot is dead?" He mocked.

"This is your last chance, Megatron." Ultra Magnus said. "I won't allow you to take even one more step towards that tent."

"My, my, where's this spark coming from?" Megatron replied. "You weren't nearly this brave before—Magnus, was it?"

"Ultra Magnus." The Autobot answered stoically, unmoved by Megatron's mockery.

Megatron laughed. "_Ultra_ Magnus, then! But you know, _Ultra_ Magnus, it doesn't matter what your designation is. In a few kliks—a breem, at most—you'll be nothing more than another pile of scrap metal. You _and_ your pathetic Autobot comrades."

Ultra Magnus glanced down at the child laying unconscious against his chassis. "Watch what you say about the Autobots." He said. "We are a proud and strong people; even the youngest of us won't bend to you! And even if you defeat us today, we will still rise up and oust you!"

"I tire of your repetitive droning, Autobot. I think you'll see who's truly won this war when you and your comrades are in the scrapheap!"

With a roar, Ultra Magnus led the charge. Megatron shrieked his battle cry, and with that, the final battle for Gate 5 had begun.

*****

The remnants of each army clashed suddenly all around their leaders. The din and roar of battle erupted almost instantly as Autobot and Decepticon met and immediately locked with one another in combat. Their fuel pumps pounded, engines growled, sparks tightened in the soldiers' chassis. Whoever won this fight would win the battle, perhaps even the war, and each and every one of them bore this knowledge like a weight on their subconscious minds. It hung on them almost as strongly as the fear and reality that this might be the end not only of the battle, but of their own lives.

Ultra Magnus held Bumblebee tightly against his chassis, covering the youngling's body completely beneath his cupped servo. There was nothing he could do with him right now, and it cost him the use of his arm, making combat difficult.

His opponent was Megatron himself. Simply staying on his feet quickly proved a challenge when faced with such a beast, but Ultra Magnus refused to be beaten. He truly was the Autobots' final line of defense, and past him, there would be no one left to keep the Decepticons from achieving their terrible goals.

But this only made things more difficult. The fate of Iacon rested on his shoulders, and Magnus wasn't ready for that kind of immense pressure. Letting the bigger picture motivate him made his joints seize with anxiety. Could he really win a fight like _this_? What if he failed? What if he let all those people down?

Megatron got in a hit, slamming the side of his cannon into Ultra Magnus's face. The Autobot gave a cry and staggered back, his grip on his rifle faltering slightly. He gritted his teeth. To have made such a stupid mistake!

"You might as well save yourself the trouble and surrender now, _Ultra_ Magnus." Megatron sneered. "Do it, and I might consider sparing your life."

Ultra Magnus stepped back to regain his bearings, reeling a little. He kept his servo clutched to his chassis mindfully; if he were to drop his precious cargo, it would almost certainly result in the child's death. And if that happened… he could never forgive himself, and he was sure Optimus Prime wouldn't either. Ultra Magnus would never be able to look his brother in the optics again.

"What's the matter?" Megatron asked. "Is it really worth your own function, or really, all of_ Iacon_ for that piteous little _brat_? It's just one sparkling. Toss it aside and face me, if you're serious!"

As the warlord approached, Magnus swiftly brought up his rifle, pulling it up and firing at Megatron in almost the same movement. Caught off-guard by the attack, the Decepticon staggered back.

Megatron was characteristically quick to regain his composure, dusting at the impact point as if he had hardly felt it. A smirk crossed his thin lips.

"I see you have some fight left in you after all. How _trite_."

Ultra Magnus held his arm outstretched, letting the rifle rest on it as he prepared to fire a second time. His gleaming yellow optics shown with resolve. Megatron simply laughed at the display, and hurled his plasma morning star at him.

Magnus dodged the attack nimbly, taking the opportunity to open fire on Megatron's side while he was preoccupied. The warlord whipped back around to face him, letting his morning star swing towards the Autobot's side. This time, the attack landed, the sheer force knocking Ultra Magnus off balance and nearly causing him to drop both Bumblebee and his rifle.

Magnus threw his weight forward to regain his balance, breaking into a run. His rifle trained on Megatron, he opened fire once more, catching the warlord—though he couldn't be entirely certain where he'd hit him.

Megatron lashed out again with the morning star, and though the ball itself didn't hit, the chain caught the outer casing of Ultra Magnus's knee and wrapped partially around it. With a sudden jerk, Magnus's leg gave way beneath him, and he found himself hurtling face-first to the ground.

The only thing he had time to do before he hit was turn himself mid-air to ensure he landed on his back, still clutching Bumblebee against his chassis. Though was able to do this, he twisted the chain around the exposed joints in the back of his knee, putting pressure on the parts within. Magnus hissed a curse, biting his lip. He scrambled to get up off of his back, but Megatron pulled the chain taut, keeping him down.

The Decepticon laughed, sending chills through Ultra Magnus's circuits.

"It's time I put you out of your misery."

With that, Megatron raised his cannon, pointing the tip at Magnus's chassis. Although not fully charged, it was so close that just a single shot would still be more than enough to shatter Ultra Magnus's outer armor and cause critical damage to his internal workings. Both he and Bumblebee would be killed.

Ultra Magnus switched off his optics. This was it—everything depended on this moment. He couldn't panic, not now, not with Iacon, the war, and everything he'd ever cared about on the line. He had to be calm. Had to _think_. Had to _react_. Had to…

Everything happened in an instant. Megatron went to fire, and Ultra Magnus flipped his lower body upward suddenly, jerking his legs up over his torso. The unexpected force—and from a seemingly defeated opponent at that—brought Megatron tumbling face-first to the ground, brought down by the chain attached to his own servo. He fired reactively on the way down, missing his opponent and wasting the all-powerful cannon's valuable energy. It would be a while yet before he was ready for another shot.

Ultra Magnus dropped his gun and hurriedly untangled his knee, fighting the resonating pain inside the joint. Now was his chance to strike! He pushed himself to his peds and vaulted to Megatron's side, determined to catch the warlord before he had the chance to recover.

Seething, Megatron sat upright, wiping silvery dust from his faceplates. But before he could collect himself, a ped came crashing down on his back, pinning him.

"Autobots!" Ultra Magnus cried. "To me, hurry! We can't let him get away!"

All around, the remnant Autobots broke free from the fighting and descended upon Megatron in force, taking him from all sides. With numerous weapons pressed hard against his body, he had no way of escape from his captors, and was forced to order his wearied Decepticons to stand down in order to protect his own life.

Ultra Magnus felt cautious pride and uneasy relief flood his body. Both sides had already taken considerable damage, and he was certain that, by now, even the Decepticons were eager to have this long and agonizing battle over and done with.

He looked down at the unconscious youngling in his servo and smiled fondly.

"You had a big servo in this victory, little one." He murmured. "If you hadn't distracted Megatron, we probably wouldn't have gotten here in time, you know that?"

Bumblebee stirred slightly, and Magnus lifted his helm once more.

The war was still far from over, but this battle had finally reached its conclusion. Megatron cared too much about his own function to risk letting the Decepticons continue their assault, and the Decepticons were ready to pack it up and go home, now that they had an excuse.

The Autobots would be able to regroup and pick up the pieces. Now that the Decepticons had lost the element of surprise regarding Megatron's new toy, they would be prepared for it. Gate 5 would be repaired and specially fortified. The Autobots could develop countermeasures to protect themselves from the all-powerful weapon. They could use the knowledge to gain something of an edge.

Ultra Magnus tried not to worry. Tonight, he'd had a servo in an important victory for the Autobots. This was a time to celebrate, to try and fend off the fears of what tomorrow might bring.

After all, whatever happened tomorrow would happen tomorrow. For now, he had concerns in the present.

*****

On that day, Megatron learned a lesson; one he would come to learn time and again, and one that he would certainly never forget.

Autobots draw their strength from one another. It's how they lived, how they fought, and how they behaved. If their friends or comrades were in danger, they would do or sacrifice whatever it took to protect one another. To the Decepticons, this way of thinking was altogether foreign; they could never understand just why someone would be so loyal, what they had to gain from wasting their own lives to preserve others.

That was the stark difference between Decepticon and Autobot, solidified in Megatron and Optimus Prime. Decepticons fought for themselves, and Autobots fought for others. No matter what the motives, what brought them here or why they were fighting this war, it was this simple principle that drove each faction, respectively.

_Ultra_ Magnus, Optimus Prime, and the brazen child had just been the first three to show that to Megatron, damn the lot of them.

He rubbed at his wounds and winced. Taken as a prisoner of war, of all the things. He'd never expected, even _conceived_ that the battle would end this way, and he was going to make sure those Autobots paid for this, dearly and in full.

.

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_To be continued..._


	8. 一時的な平和 Temporary Peace

_AN. Thank you all so very much for the kind reviews! I adore receiving and reading each and every one._  
_It's my sincere hope that you enjoy Part 2 of our story just as much as the first._

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_Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑 - __The Angel's Smile__  
-Part 2-_

一時的な平和 _(Temporary Peace)_

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Optimus Prime had been sitting in his office, holding Bumblebee against his chest, softly humming to the youngling to try and get the feeble, but energetic child to go to sleep. He rocked him gently and whispered his favorite lullabies, coddling him and holding him close even as he attempted to read over important documents with his free servo.

Ratchet had told him time and again not to work so much, or so hard. He understood that the duties of a Prime were not only difficult but strenuous, but as a doctor he also understood that Optimus was putting too much strain on himself.

This proved to be true, for when Ratchet came to check up on the two sometime later, he found the Prime fast asleep, laid back in his chair, with Bumblebee still awake and bobbing cheerfully on his chest. With a sigh and a good-natured smile, Ratchet had taken over gently singing the youngling to sleep, and, in spite of himself, had actually managed to do it well enough to get the kid to settle down and go into recharge.

By the time he'd left, he'd closed the door on the positively precious scene of Optimus Prime fast asleep in a chair at a desk with his infant son curled up on his chest, cradled against a warm chest by protective servos.

Ratchet recalled the memory and half-jokingly blanched, chuckling to himself. Though kind and compassionate—if slightly grumpy and terribly pessimistic—he'd never really been one for such sticky-sweet things.

But right now, he was starting to think that there might be something to be said about that kind of stuff. It wasn't that he found something all that endearing in it, but at a time like this, he was starting to find that sometimes these moments were something to really be appreciated. Just that the Prime had found time to slow down and rest with Bumblebee was special in its own right.

Ratchet looked through an electronic window out over the horizon. Alpha Centauri was rising once again into view, tinting Cybertron's eternally dark skies with the dusky hues of orange and purple they would retain through the rest of the day. Below it, Gate 5 still smoldered, black smoke rising into the air, the damage visible even from out here in the upper levels of the Decagon.

Out there, Iaconians worked hard to restore the gate; civilians were working alongside military Autobots to repair the damage before renegade Decepticons could return for another round. Their efforts were paying off, by the looks of it. It was good to see so many people coming together for a cause that way.

If he'd had the time, if he hadn't had so many patients to tend to—and above all, if he hadn't been so exhausted from being forced to do the very thing he'd kept warning Optimus Prime about; overworking himself—Ratchet would have gone to help them. But as it was, he _didn't_ have the time, he _did_ lots of patients, and he _was_ exhausted. And among his troubles was tending to Prime himself.

The Autobot commander's arm, torso, and chassis had been painstakingly pieced back together; a considerable amount of wiring, circuitry, and plating having had to be either repaired or replaced, and the living metal soldered to the best of the doctors' abilities. Happily, the Prime would make a full recovery, with proper care and a bit of bed rest. And as long as his healing scars were kept clean and free of contaminants that could cause rust, it appeared there wouldn't be any complications.

Ratchet turned back to the medical berth where the noble red-and-blue mech lay.

Optimus Prime's engine softly purred as he recharged, a soft, peaceful, almost _ethereal_ look on his scratched-up face—as if he somehow knew they'd won the battle; or perhaps, through his stasis, he was simply happy to be alive and with his family. Bumblebee, also in recharge mode, was splayed out on the undamaged part of his deep red chassis, not quite covering the reinforced glass pane set in it.

Ultra Magnus rested nearby, his soulful, but dimmed yellow optics keeping careful watch over the room and its occupants. He was seated in a fairly comfortable alloy chair, outfitted with a much-appreciated leg rest that supported his freshly-repaired knee joint. His rifle was propped up against the right side of the chair for quick access-just in case the unthinkable happened, and some sort of threat made its way up here.

Though Magnus was still unsure of his own fighting abilities, out-maneuvering Megatron and helping to both take him captive and win an all-important battle did wonders for his confidence. If somehow, something got in here and threatened his friends, comrades, and family, he would drive it out without hesitation.

Still, he hadn't recharged since the battle at Gate 5, and exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on his body. Proud shoulders sloped, and his fingertips twitched anxiously, tapping the armrest of his chair.

"Hey, Ultra Magnus. You forget how to rest?"

Startled by the sudden noise, his optics brightened, his head jerked up, and his gaze fixed on Ratchet.

"Easy now, take it easy." Ratchet said, showing his palms in surrender. "See, this is what I was talking about. Ultra Magnus, you need to recharge. Look at you, you're exhausted!" The taller mech opened his mouth to speak, but Ratchet cut him off. "There are plenty of people downstairs who'll make sure nothing gets up here. And the chances of something even just making it all the way to the Decagon are astronomical, so please, as a doctor, I'm telling you to get some rest."

Ultra Magnus sighed. "You're right," he said, "I know you're right. I'm just… worried."

Ratchet walked over and placed a servo on the space between Magnus's neck and shoulders, giving him a reassuring, if weary, smile. "I know you are. I can't help but be worried myself, to be honest. But even if something bad _were_ to happen, it would only be worse if you're too tired to deal with it."

"True," Ultra Magnus said, giving a nod. "Alright, fine. I'll recharge."

"Very good." Ratchet nodded, taking his servo off of Magnus. "Enjoy your rest." With that, he turned and went back across the room towards the door, not giving another glance to his three young patients. Though he couldn't yet get any recharge of his own, he could at least find a few minutes to follow his own advice and rest and refuel.

Optimus Prime shifted, and his striking deep blue optics slowly glowed to life. For a moment, he was completely still, letting his sleepiness fall away from him as he began running self-diagnostics. He felt a lot of things; happiness and relief that he was alive and safe at home, trepidation at finding out the results of the battle, and a certain resolve that, as long as the Decagon still stood, and the Decepticons hadn't slain its Prime in his stasis, they had to have won the battle. All he was truly concerned with was how many of his men had survived—his troops came first, always.

He planted his servos on the berth, elbow joints raised, and went to push himself up, when he felt something slide a little on his chassis. Prime paused and blinked, before looking down to see what was resting on him.

A smile crossed his torn white lips, and he reached up to rub at the back of the sleeping Bumblebee's tiny helm. That little toy sword of his was lying next to the youngling, but oddly, the 'blade' had been badly bent and he could see what almost looked like burns near its base and tip. How could that have possibly happened?

Prime felt uneasy about it. He would have to ask Ratchet what had happened while he'd been unconscious, and get a proper damage report from Prowl once he was back on his feet.

With a large blue servo, Optimus Prime gently cupped the sleeping Bumblebee against his chassis and tried to stand. It proved a laborious effort, his body—weakened and still trying to recover from its wounds—creaked in protest as he slowly but surely maneuvered himself to sit up and from there, rise from the medical bench.

Gently, he laid Bumblebee down at the top of the bench, carefully resting the youngling's tiny helm and upper body on the cushion at its head. Something was amiss with the child, but it was difficult to assess just what. He seemed just fine, and when the Prime examined the youngling he found no wounds or singeing, though he thought he could see slight denting in the side of his chassis.

The Prime frowned. Given how sickly his son had been through most of the youngling's short life, and just how close he'd come to losing the sparkling, he tended to be a little overprotective of him.

It didn't help that he hadn't yet had extensive experience yet as a parent or as commander, and as such he still found it difficult to deal with this kind of stress and hardship. Although he was wise, and bore the knowledge of the Primes, Optimus did not yet possess the tools to fully implement that knowledge or to deal with the overwhelming difficulties of being the leader of an entire planet, fighting a vicious and horrible war, the fate of his very species upon his broad shoulders. He had so many problems, and they were all so severe… there were times when he thought he might not be able to handle any of it at all.

"Optimus?"

Startled by the voice, even as soft as it had been, the Prime's head snapped up, and he tensed, ready to defend his child if need be.

His scanning optics found the tall, powerfully-built blue form leaning back tiredly in a chair by the wall, and Prime relaxed, smiling behind the battered mask. The other was a sight for sore eyes, and brought a relief that rushed through Prime's body.

"Ultra Magnus." Optimus Prime said warmly. "You don't know how good it is to see you."

Ultra Magnus pushed himself up and rose slowly from his seat. Exhaustion was etched in his features and movement, and he visibly favored his right leg. The toll that the siege had taken upon him was all too clear, but all the same, he stood to meet the Prime.

"Magnus, wait, sit back down." Optimus said concernedly, moving to support his brother. He put his servos under the larger Autobot's arms, helping him to keep steady. Then, he guided Magnus gently but firmly back down into his chair, careful not to aggravate anything that might be scratched or wounded.

Now sitting, the much larger mech leaned forward and put his tired arms around Optimus's shoulders.

"Thank you, Optimus." Ultra Magnus said softly.

"Think nothing of it." Optimus Prime answered, his voice just as quiet. "Just try and get some rest, alright? Why haven't you been repaired?"

Ultra Magnus averted his gaze. "Do you really think Ratchet would let me get away with dodging repair?" He asked. "I'm just a little sore. The… _Decepticons_ did a number on me."

"Magnus, what's wrong?" Optimus asked, concern flooding into his proud features. "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

Ultra Magnus showed another weary smile, turning to look the Prime in the optics. "It's a long story, and I'm certain you will hear it numerous times later. For now, you and I both need to rest and recover. The night has been too long."

Optimus nuzzled Magnus affectionately before releasing him and rising to his full height. "Alright," he agreed-if reluctantly, "we will discuss this later. But I fully expect to hear every detail of what's happened to you."

"Agreed." Magnus sighed, and settled back into his seat to rest.

Once he was sure Ultra Magnus had gone back into recharge, Optimus Prime excused himself from the room and began to make his way through the Decagon's medical facilities in search of answers. He had so many friends out there on the battlefield, many of them dear to him, and he wanted, _needed_ to know if they were alright, alive at least!

"Just where do you think _you're_ going?" Came a voice from behind, this one much louder and more abrasive than the last to address him this way.

Optimus Prime turned to face the voice's source, sighing tiredly. "Ratchet, thank goodness. I needed to ask you a few questions."

.

_._

_To be continued...  
_


	9. 真真実を教える Tell the Truth

___Optimus Prime and Bumblebee - 天使の微笑 - __The Angel's Smile _  
真真実を教える (tell the truth)

_. _

Optimus returned to his medical bench, closely followed by Ratchet. Carefully, the Prime scooped up both Bumblebee and the little toy sword, and lay down, lovingly cradling the youngling against his chest with a single servo.

Ratchet pulled up a chair and sat next to the berth, frowning down at his patient. He already knew exactly what the Autobot commander wanted to know. He just needed to find the words to tell him.

"Ratchet," Optimus Prime started, "I need to know what happened at Gate 5."

"Where do I even start?" The doctor asked uneasily. "Sir, Prowl could give you a better damage report than I could. I can get him up here, if you'd like."

"That won't be necessary. I'll go over the details with him when it's appropriate." Prime said, his voice gentle but firm. "For now, I'm not looking for a mere damage report or assessment… I want to know about my friends and comrades."

Ratchet sighed glumly. "I thought as much."

"Ironhide isn't here." The Prime said uneasily, looking distantly out at the room. He turned away and gave a sigh. "Is he still with us?"

Ratchet met the larger Autobot's gaze, and for a moment, there was complete silence. Not since Bumblebee was an infant had the doctor seen the Prime look so _sad_, but that was really to be expected. The ancient Autobot had been a good friend to Optimus since his sudden rise to Prime, acting as both a bodyguard and a confidante. A lot of people loved the old rust-bucket, who would've done anything to protect them and ensure their happiness.

Well, at least he had _some_ good news for the inexperienced Prime.

"Come now, Prime," Ratchet said softly. "What's that look about? You know you can't kill the old fragger _that_ easily."

The Prime's optics brightened. "Really?" He asked delightedly. "Tell me, will he recover? What's the damage?"

"Hey, take it easy!" Ratchet said good-naturedly, making downward gestures with his servos. "Ol' Ironhide's got a few vorns left in him yet, I'm happy to say. He cut it pretty close, though, but I suspect we'll get the whole story behind _that_ later- every last detail."

"Plus ten or twenty legions of enemy soldiers, I'd wager." Prime added, a smile in his voice.

"It just wouldn't be Ironhide otherwise." Ratchet agreed, stifling a chuckle. "Now, since you already have Prowl to fill you in on all the serious details, I'll just give you the good news, alright?"

"I suppose," Prime answered uneasily.

"What's that tone about?" Ratchet asked. "I told you, I'm only giving you the _good_ news. And there's plenty of that, you'll be happy to know."

"I do have another question before you begin." Optimus Prime said, meeting his optics. For a moment, Ratchet found himself struck by just how piercing that gaze really was. Optimus's truly were the optics of a Prime; as passionate as Sentinel Prime before him, but with a gentleness that his predecessor had lacked. Even in this condition, even with his lack of experience, it was uncanny just how _suited_ he seemed to be to leadership.

"Yes, sir?" The doctor prompted.

"What happened to Bumblebee?" Optimus Prime asked.

Ratchet shifted uneasily. Of all the things his commander could've asked, it had to be something that wasn't easy to answer. For one thing, he knew that the answer was going to upset the Prime, no two ways about it. For another, he still felt a little badly about letting the little rat get away, even if it hadn't really been his fault. He had been working at the time after all-and on the Prime himself, in fact- and he'd _told_ Bumblebee not to go anywhere. Honestly, for all the child's brazenness, he hadn't expected him to go and pull a stunt like _that_.

"Sir, I think it's in your best interest you wait until you're feeling better." He replied.

"Why?" Prime asked suspiciously, rubbing the youngling's upper back with his finger. He clearly wasn't in the mood for this, and Ratchet knew he couldn't evade the question. But at the same time, the Autobot commander still wasn't in any condition for the stress and worry-and perhaps anger-that the truth would bring.

"Because, well, I told you that I'm only going to give you the good news." Ratchet answered uneasily. He glanced over at the door, mentally grasping for an excuse to put it to use.

"Now I _really_ want to know." The larger mech said.

"Well, sir, with all due respect, I'm not telling you. You needn't concern yourself with such things in your condition, and that's the doctor's orders."

Optimus Prime's optics narrowed. "We're talking about something that happened to my _son_." He said, his voice a little hoarse, but absolutely firm. "It already concerns me."

Ratchet frowned and averted his gaze. Well, Prime definitely had a point, and were he in the same position, the doctor knew that he would've done exactly the same thing- only, he wasn't the commander of all Autobots. He was more than a little outclassed on this one.

"Really now, Prime." Ratchet ventured one last time. "Isn't it enough that I'm your doctor _and_ your friend? Can't you wait until you've recovered?"

"Please. Just tell me." Optimus answered. "If you don't, I'll just worry about it until you do. Bumblebee _looks_ alright, but he's been hurt, and his sword's all bent up."

Ratchet's shoulders sloped in defeat. "Yes, sir." He said at last. "You see, Bumblebee wanted to _protect_ you, so he went out looking for you."

The Prime tensed, and propped himself up on his elbows. Alarm showed itself in his widened optics and hydraulics drawn taut. "Out? On the battlefield?"

"Yes, sir." Ratchet answered reluctantly. "Now, listen, just relax and let me finish my story. I really won't tell you if you try to get up, with all due respect."

The powerful mech carefully lowered himself back onto the bed, looking earnestly to Ratchet. "I apologize. Please, continue."

Ratchet nodded and reluctantly continued. "I'm afraid he… well, he went out onto the battlefield, _but_ he was caught by Jazz and brought to the medical tent. He suffered only minor damage and was not hit by any stray fire."

"Thank Primus," Optimus said breathlessly. "But how did he get out there? Wasn't anyone watching him? Why didn't Jazz stop him?"

"Now, before you get angry, Prime, Jazz was escorting me out there at Ultra Magnus's request so I could take care of the wounded; _yourself_ among them. We really didn't have a choice, so we left Bumblebee up in his room and sent a nursemaid to look after him. I guess he must've gotten out before he got there, and nobody noticed him in all the commotion."

That was enough to calm Optimus Prime's nerves, it seemed. He relaxed and bowed his head, and nudged his sleeping youngling's cheek fondly. "Mischievous little thing… Thank Primus nothing happened!" He looked up at Ratchet once more. "Thank you for taking care of him, Ratchet- and for telling me the truth."

Ratchet smiled awkwardly. He was just lucky the commander was too happy and relieved to be angry about what'd happened.

He felt bad about giving him only half the story, of course, but it was for the Prime's own good. The red and blue mech had to focus on recovering, and it wouldn't do much for his health if he was busy panicking because of the stupid stunt his young son had pulled "in the name of the Autobot cause".

Ratchet hoped the kid wasn't about to make a habit of it. The Prime would flip if Bumblebee grew up and decided to become a soldier.

"So then, Prime. How about I give you that good news I promised?" He offered, changing the subject.

"Thank you, Ratchet. That would be great right about now." Optimus Prime answered, a smile in his voice.


End file.
